Page 86 of The Two of Us at the End of the World

I opened my mouth to reply, but she shook her head.

No. Tell me while I look at your hand, she said. Let’s get you inside where it’s clean.

I caught an arrow, I said.

That stopped her.

Whose arrow? she said.

Storm’s, I said, looking over in the direction of the library bunker. But she wasn’t trying to shoot me. She was trying to hit the dog.

Dog? She said. What dog?

It’s a long story, I said. But it’s also how we lost the goat.

Cat was appalled by the sight of my hand when we unwrapped it, so much so that she didn’t really seem to take in the details of our disastrous trip into Stitch Country, and made me tell it again from the beginning once she had satisfied herself that the wound was as clean as we could make it.

It took a while, but we didn’t see Storm until I told the story twice and went out to check on the babies, to find her sitting with them both in her lap, awake and happy and drinking goat milk bottles. She looked up at us. Cat glanced towards the library bunker.

She’s asleep, Storm said. She’ll be OK in the morning.

Even at the time that sounded like a lie, or maybe hope that desperate just always sounds like a lie.

Did you tell her about the Russians? Cat said.

No, she said. She wouldn’t have taken it well.

Good, said Cat. That’s good. Are you OK?

I’m fine. And really sorry I lost the goat, Storm said looking at me. We’re going to need it. I don’t think she can…

Worry about that in the morning, Cat said, shaking her head, kind but itchy-twitchy at the same time.

I knew what she was doing. She was already trying to fix everything, stacking all the worries in the right order in her head, being methodical so she wouldn’t panic at the size of the pile, figuring out which one needed dealing with first and then planning to take them off one by one until the pile was gone, or if not gone reduced to something that she could stand back and look at and believe we could conquer in time. I know that’s what she was doing because it’s how she taught me to deal with things. They called it triage in First Aid and Safety for Dummies and triaging was what Cat was doing right then. It wasn’t something I could do better than her, so I let her do it, knowing that it would calm her and that her choices would be better than mine.

I leaned back on the bench, closed my eyes, and tried to ignore the mad itching in my bandaged hand. I felt a weight lean against my leg and found Digger’s head with my good hand. I buried my fingers in her fur and for a moment allowed myself to enjoy the relief of getting home and being back with Cat. Touching the dog didn’t help the itching but it did root me back in what seemed to be, at the time, the safe soil of home ground. We still had a pile of worries, but somewhere out there, if I opened my eyes, I knew I’d see Cat figuring it all out, and that would be good.

What are you smiling about? Storm’s voice cut into my moment of relief, sharp-edged and flinty with accusation. I didn’t open my eyes. Determined not to let her spoil it.

I’m happy, I said. Happy to be home.

She snorted and started to say something.

Storm! said Cat. Just for once try and…

I’m sorry, said Storm.

It wasn’t the fact that she’d apologised for something that made me open my eyes in surprise, it was the speed with which she corrected herself and how her voice sounded as she did it, as unfamiliar as the words coming out of her mouth. She sounded rushed and panicked and so much smaller than she usually did. And she even looked smaller and somehow different too as her gaze flicked back and forth between Cat and me. There was something in that flailing look of a person drowning and looking for something they might be able to hold onto and save themself.

I’m just scared, she said.

I didn’t have to look at Cat to know we would both be looking as surprised as each other. This was not something we’d ever heard from Storm.

Did you tell her about them? she said to me.

We’ll worry about that in the morning, Cat said.

They were heading north—I began but Cat put her hand on my arm.